


Filthy Moves

by popfly



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny uses one of Patrick's moves, and Patrick wants to show him a few more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filthy Moves

**Author's Note:**

> (Thanks for the read through Lacey, you are still and always my favorite.)

Jonny has never been happier to be in a dressing room full of non-roster guys.

The kids are quiet, even the ones that are comfortable around Jonny, that have played with him before. Jonny’s eyeing Hayesy, because he assumes if anyone’s going to start yapping, it’ll be him. Or Bollig. Jonny swings his glare over to Bollig, but he’s smirking at the reporters, riding high on his second goal in as many games. He deserves it, too.

Jonny looks around for any other offenders, but everyone’s focused on getting changed and getting to the showers. They’re heading back to Chicago right away, so they can spend their Saturday at home before heading out to Detroit on Sunday. Jonny’s feeling smug, about his shootout goal and not catching any shit for the moves he used, and swaggers off to the showers.

Then he opens his locker and his phone basically vibrates off the shelf.

He has thirty seven text messages.

*****  
Thirty six of them are from Sharpy. Thirty four of those literally just say _Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha_ for all 160 characters. The first one says _Really Jonny?_ , the second one says _Or should I say Kaner 2?_ and the last one says _You know he’s going to chirp the shit out of you._

Sharpy is a dick.

The only message not from Sharpy is from Patrick.

_Nice move. Wonder who you got that from?_

And there’s a smiley face at the end of it, because Patrick loves emoticons more than anyone Jonny has ever known, including his young female cousins.

Jonny doesn’t write back. He does pull up the video of his goal on his phone on the plane, and watches it with the screen tilted away from the aisle and his earbuds in.

It’s pretty sweet. Even if it is a borrowed move.

*****

Jonny wakes up to his phone ringing, and it’s Patrick’s ring tone, not his alarm tone.

“Good morning,” Patrick says, not even waiting for Jonny to say hello. He’s disgustingly cheerful for it being so early, but he didn’t have to play and fly the day before, so he has an excuse. It still makes Jonny grumpy, the brightness of his voice and the way he can hear the fucker smirking down the line. “How’s our shootout star today?”

“Fuck you,” Jonny says, and rolls over so his face isn’t mashed in his pillow anymore. “Why are you so cheerful?”

“Because I love having shit to tease you about, obviously. Like, steal my moves all you want, man, but pick something less obvious.”

“Fuck you, plenty of people use that move.”

“Yeah, okay, Jonny. Whatever you say.”

Jonny glares at his ceiling. “At least it worked for me. One of us has to be able to score in shootouts.”

He wants to take it back as soon as it’s out of his mouth. Patrick’s been weirdly sensitive about his numbers and stats lately, and Jonny doesn’t want to fuck with his confidence. But then Patrick laughs, a short burst of sound, and says, “Keep talking like that and that’ll be the only time you score.”

“Are you threatening to withhold sex if I chirp you about not making shootout goals?”

“Yup.”

Jonny considers it. He’s pretty sure Patrick couldn’t deny Jonny no matter how much shit Jonny was giving him, and the threat almost makes Jonny want to say something else, call his bluff. But he’s got a serious case of morning wood that their ridiculous conversation has done nothing to get rid of, and he doesn’t want to press his luck.

“Whatever. You’re the master, that’s why I used your move, blah blah blah,” Jonny says, making his tone as flat as possible and rolling his eyes so hard he hopes Patrick can somehow tell, through the phone. “Are you coming over?”

Patrick laughs again, but it’s lower and lighter, and he’s clearly delighted with himself when he says, “Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit.”

*****

“I’ve got some other moves,” Patrick says when he gets to Jonny’s place, after he shoves Jonny down on the couch and gets right in his lap, knees on either side of Jonny’s thighs and hands cupped around Jonny’s neck. “I could show you, if you want to try them.”

“Do you really want to talk hockey right now?” Jonny asks, and palms Patrick’s ass. It’s fuller than Jonny’s used to, fits so nicely in the cup of his hands, and Jonny squeezes a little. Patrick groans, his forehead thunking down onto Jonny’s.

“Seriously, you think I’m talking about hockey? I’m trying to dirty talk, here, you idiot.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, and he doesn’t particularly care what Patrick is saying, because his ass feels really good under Jonny’s fingers. It would feel better if it was bare, but it’s pretty nice even through Patrick’s shorts.

“Jonny, focus,” Patrick says, and bumps their noses together. “I want to show you something.”

Jonny frowns but meets Patrick’s eyes. He’s not sure where Patrick is going with this. “Do I not do something right when we’re … “ he trails off, lifting his eyebrows, and Patrick sighs.

“You’re great. I just kind of wanted to order you around a little, tell you what to do. Thanks for ruining the magic.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, and then, “ _oh_. Uh, yeah, that sounds good.”

“Your enthusiasm really gets me hot, Jonny,” Patrick deadpans, but he pushes off of Jonny’s lap and reaches down for Jonny’s hand, dragging him up off the couch and then nudging him towards the hallway.

*****

Patrick strips himself and sprawls across Jonny’s mattress, knees bent and splayed wide, one hand tucked behind his head. Jonny loves Patrick’s preseason body, the way he’s leaner but more toned, his skin less pale than usual. He’s got freckles everywhere from the summer sun, and they drive Jonny crazy.

He’s staring, and Patrick clearly likes it, if the way his eyelids go heavy and his cock jumps when Jonny’s gaze brushes over it is any indication. Jonny smirks, he can’t help it, and Patrick chuckles.

“Smug ass,” Patrick says, and Jonny shrugs a shoulder, finishes getting naked and crawls up the bed, up between Patrick’s knees.

“So you were going to show me some moves?” Jonny asks, and slides one hand up the inside of Patrick’s thigh, thumb grazing near his balls but just past them, brushing up to press against his hipbone. Patrick hisses in a breath and shifts under Jonny’s hand, licks his lower lip.

“I’m going to teach you the art of a Patrick Kane blowjob,” he says, grinning. Jonny can understand why he looks so pleased. Patrick gives one hell of a blowjob. Jonny doesn’t think he’s bad at it, either, but Patrick’s mouth was made for sucking dick.

“You’re in for a treat then,” Jonny says, and doesn’t give Patrick the chance to acknowledge the compliment. Instead he slides his lips around the head of Patrick’s cock, tongue dipping right into the slit. Patrick groans, and then he starts giving Jonny instructions.

He follows it up with a reciprocal blowjob that makes Jonny feel like his spine has literally melted. Jonny has never been more glad he stole someone’s shootout moves.


End file.
